


Lost

by sassy_curmudgeon



Category: Last of the Mohicans (1992)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Historical, Interracial Relationship, Orphans, Tags Are Hard, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_curmudgeon/pseuds/sassy_curmudgeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice and Uncas, both so young and weary look towards a future together with hope. They will soon realize that the road to happiness is never an easy one. Noncanon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I normally publish first at ffnet, so you can always check this this story out there. I write under the username "assiage" Cheers!

ChapterOne

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The survivors of the slaughter huddled together at the edge of the forest as dawn broke overhead- Chingachgook, his two sons and the Munro sisters.

Uncas lay dazed, his breathing shallow, his gaze bright and feverish. Many thoughts raced through the Mohican youth's mind, images he had long forgotten. The heart never forgets, he thought numbly, beginning to shiver. His father shared a worried look with Nathaniel.

Never… thought Chingachgook, never shall I forget the image of my son at the cliffs, almost losing him… He turned unsettling eyes toward the slender white girl with hair the color of the moon, the cause of Uncas' mad flight up that mountainside.

His eyes flicked to her wrists, rubbed raw and bloody by Magua's ropes. Her bloodied hands gently adjusted her pale, pink skirts, and she inched closer to Uncas, her blonde hair lank, her skin pale and luminous. Her blue eyes looked very large as she gazed down at his youngest son, solemn and unblinking.

Uncas muttered again and turned restlessly in a delirium of fever. His deep wounds were constantly cleaned and disinfected, the bandages changed.

They could do nothing, however, to lower the fever that raged within him. Chingachgook observed it all, calm and stoic. He saw his white son's agitation, the dark haired girl wringing her hands, the gold one gazing down in uninterrupted silence.

But no. Chingachgook would not give in to despair and hopelessness. Death had always been a common fixture in his life, claiming his family and wife while he was still quite young.

Death would not claim his son.

Death was treacherous in the way that it offered no excuses, no apologies, and plucked those whose time had come- be it a brave father who smiled tenderly upon a sleeping son, a beautiful wife with coal black hair and laughing eyes… Chingachgook knew the secrets of time and nature.

Death was looming but not present.

As Uncas turned, Chingachgook caught sight of a pale, slender hand hovering over his son's face. Nathaniel, sitting with Cora in his arms, blinked blearily at the sight of Alice's hand. They all watched silently as Alice lowered her hand gently onto Uncas' brow with a concentrated look on her face.

Chingachgook thought perhaps her hand would be too icy and clammy, and he shifted uncomfortably. Uncas opened his eyes a crack and smiled into the Moon Girl's eyes. Alice returned his smile and held his gaze until his eyes drooped shut, with heavy, even breathing.

The fever would still be present, Chingachgook decided, observing the sticky sheen of perspiration over his son. But now, at the touch of a white girl, barely 18 winters of age, he slumbered peacefully.

As Chingachgook's eyes met the resolute gaze of Alice Munro, odd thoughts began to swirl through him. He met her gaze as if it were the first time he was seeing her… which, in a way, it was.

Uncas was lost in the spectrum between light and dark. There was an odd sensation of floating and his fevered mind somehow made the connection. How could he float, if he were on solid ground?

Unless I am dying.

Uncas felt no terror. None.

Death was father to sleep, after all. All he felt were regrets, all the hidden regrets of his life he had tried so valiantly to keep at bay. What good were unfulfilled desires, anguish, and regrets to a man? They were useless emotions, he had decided long ago…

But alas, ghostly faces swam unbidden before Uncas. He saw his mother's beautiful, cheerful face. Her dark eyes that always seemed to smile.

His childhood best friend, Keesog. As children, one fateful day, they excitedly agreed to meet near the top of a tall hill. Keesog told a 10 year old Uncas a story he heard from passing traders, that there at the top lay the remains and treasures of long since dead Yengeese soldiers.

Instead of meeting up with his friend, Uncas promptly forgot and accompanied his Father and brother on a fishing trip. Upon returning, they were greeted with the news- young Keesog somehow fell down a ravine in the hill, cracking his head wide open and bleeding to death on the dusty grounds of the hill.

Uncas fell into shock. Only that morning had he seen his faithful friend. With his wide, toothy grin, eyes aglow with anticipation and delight at the prospect of bones, treasure and glory.

"I don't believe it! Someone has made up this lie!" he shouted before darting through his Father's arms and into the awaiting darkness.

Keesog's face smiled down at him. No killing wound, no terror, and smiling reassuringly at his old comrade.

He would have made a good warrior… thought Uncas in his daze.

Uncas saw acquaintances and past lovers pass before him in an array of colorful silence, when suddenly, something darted out at him. A flash of color… pink fabric.

He squinted, remembering. Pink fabric; long, tapered fingers, blonde hair and hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. Blue eyes as wide as the prairie sky.

Miss Alice.

He opened his eyes and gave a ghost of a smile to the pretty blonde kneeling before him, the girl who had captured his heart. His eyes drooped and he slept.

Alice watched Uncas slumber and knew her heart was his.

She glanced around the firelight. Nathaniel and her sister Cora sat together, whispering, and she realized with a start that Chingachgook was watching her, the fire reflecting in his dark eyes. She licked her cracked lips and plucked a question out of nothingness to mask her awkwardness.

"Where do we go now?" she asked, her voice cracking like dead leaves in her throat.

"We head west," he said after a beat. "Away from the warring French and British."

"You will go to Can-tuck-ee?" she asked, having heard this phrase from Uncas.

"Yes." He paused, and then, "and yourself, Moon Girl?"

Cora suddenly swiveled around, her eyes flashing dangerously in the near darkness.

"What could you possibly mean?" she asked brusquely. "My sister and I will stay together. She will accompany us to Can-tuck-ee."

"Alice is a grown woman," Nathaniel murmured gently to Cora. "Although it would please me greatly for her to join us, the choice is hers of whether or not to return to London or stay here."

"How could you say such a thing?" the dark haired Munro sister whispered fiercely.

"Alice and I have no relations in England. She will be alone! The King can bloody hang for all I care. Our home will be here! What is more, she is not grown as of yet."

Her eyes turned to her sister. "Alice, you are…you are…" She thought hard, trying to remember. "You are 16 this year? Is it not so?"

Alice felt deeply wounded, but only for a moment. She could never bring herself to stay upset for long. Truly, Cora was not to fault. Her family had not once celebrated her birthday. Their mother died giving birth to Alice. What was there to celebrate?

Alice cleared her throat delicately.

"I am 18," she answered back quietly.

Cora stared. "But you said… I thought…."

"You are four years older than I am," Alice reminded her sister.

Cora flushed and was still for a second. "Forgive me, sister," she said quietly. "'Tis horrid of me. What manner of sister am I, forgetting your age?"

Alice smiled gently, yet tiredly. "A sister that is far too preoccupied with matters of greater importance. There is nothing to forgive."

Nathaniel smiled at Alice warmly. He liked her sweetness.

"Or perhaps," murmured Cora. "A sister who still sees you as a little girl."

They grinned at each other across the flickering firelight, caught up in memories of the past. A fierce-eyed little girl with voluminous dark curls, possessively clutching the hand of a tiny blonde child… A blonde girl, staring up at her older, wiser sister with hope and trust….

Cora gave a throaty laugh that echoes past the trees and beyond.

"It is little wonder… when I heard news of your engagement to Jeremy Forsythe, while I was in Dorchester, I wrote our Father an angry letter asking why he would marry you off at such a young age. He was so bewildered! 'Younger than her have wives been made,' was his reply!" Cora chuckled on, blithely unaware that Alice's mood had come down a notch.

"You were engaged, Ms. Alice?" Nathaniel asked with interest.

Alice nodded shortly. Nathaniel noticed the guarded expression on her face and so let the matter drop. Besides, he had never been too keen on asking questions.

But still, he wondered what the story was.

Daybreak dawned crisp and warm. The travelers had survived their first night.

Uncas' fever had broken just before dawn to the overwhelming relief of all those present. The fact remained, however, that he was still too weak to be moved.

The men began to converse in their language and while Cora used her medical experience to tend to Uncas, Alice made herself useful by walking the short distance to a rushing stream to wash Uncas' bandages. She sat down by the stream and proceeded to scrub vigorously, watching the sun arise as if from bitter ashes to turn the world pink and orange.

Alice couldn't believe that she and her sister had survived. Uncas running up by himself no less, to save her, an English girl whom he had known for only a short span of time.

Time, among other things, is a very deceptive matter, thought Alice primly. Uncas had almost died on those cliffs at the sharp receiving end of a dagger, until his father and brother arrived and in just the nick of time, too, to finish off Magua and his Huron braves.

Afterwards, the stunned and bloodied group stumbled down the mountaintop and did what they could for Uncas. They worried over Uncas' broken arm and what to bind it with until Alice had a brain wave- their corsets!

They were frightfully tight little buggers, made of some kind of bone, no less, and judging from the bruises Alice had amassed since the age of 13, merely from sporting said garment, well… Her hunch paid off. The girls handed over their loathed corsets, which were stripped of their frilly laces and were used to bind Uncas' broken bones.

"I can't believe you gals had to wear this!" Nathaniel exclaimed, appalled, but laughing in a moment of amusement before Uncas began to shudder as fever set in.

Alice's smile turned pensive as she scrubbed harder.

Uncas…

Merely his name sent that odd shiver down the small of her back. What to make of it all? She had never been in love… Not even with Jeremy. She thought with a sigh, but banished that train of thought lest she felt anew the sick feeling of humiliation.

Uncas, whose gaze kept flicking towards her after Magua's first attack and their introduction, did not at all fit in for what she thought was a red man. There was nothing vile or savage about him. He was tall, strong, and unbearably handsome. His hue, not red as she had thought, but a warm brown not unlike that of sailors and those who labored outdoors.

Uncas, whose dark eyes stared at her hungrily at the besieged fort after their private meeting outside.

Alice's hands shook and she heaved a shuddering breath. She sat down at the bank of the stream, remembering.

The boom of French Cannon was suppose to somehow lull her to sleep, she thought disparagingly as she wandered through the winding halls of the fort, the air thick with the moans of the wounded and dying.

She gave a gasp of breath. She had no stomach for this misery, and with that, stepped outside, instantly feeling better. She walked around the encampment and saw, to her shock, whole families, wives clutching wounded husbands, young people making the best of a horrible situation and, refusing to sink to despair, whirling in dances as drums, flutes and fiddles rent the air. A powerful testament to the resilient power of youth.

It was odd to her eyes. The English were known for their remarkable restraint and these Americans chose to latch onto happiness at least for one more night. Are they foolish? She wondered. Or are they brave?

She shook off her muddled thoughts and quickened her pace. What use was bravery when one was dead?

A tingling in the back of her neck told her she was being watched. She looked to the right and propped there with a rifle was the young Mohican, Uncas. He gave her a small smile and nodded at being recognized, utterly unembarrassed at being caught ogling her.

Alice gave a small sniff. But really, he frightened her. His constant gaze was unsettling, especially the way it caused that damned shiver to course through her.

"Good evening, sir," Alice said warily as Uncas slowly approached her.

A particularly loud boom from the cannons caused her to scream and pivot around so much so that she stumbled. Uncas had not even flinched at the sound as he observed her himself, his dark eyes keen.

"Evening, miss," he replied. "Enjoying the scenery?"

He was teasing her, and she did not enjoy it one whit. So what if she was skittish?

"No." She tilted her chin up. "I was helping in the infirmary."

"I know," he said, and stood quietly once more, observing her until she began to fidget.

"I beg your pardon, sir," She said in clipped tones. "But as I rather enjoy my life, I do not feel the need to stand so close to the cannons." And with that, she began to walk away. She heard footsteps beside her and stopped and turned.

It was Uncas again.

He smiled. "Let me walk with you, Miss. For your safety."

She gave him a blank look, and so he tried again.

"Please?" She didn't think he was begging. He really was concerned.

"All right…" She replied.

They walked for five minutes in silence, and Alice began to feel more and more awkward. So she stopped in the darkness near her father's quarters.

"Thank you, sir. You are a credit to us all," Alice said very properly, turning to leave.

"Uncas," said his deep voice, smooth as honey. "That is my name."

Alice looked startled. "Very well," she conceded slowly. "Have you not a surname?"

Uncas ginned slowly and chuckled at her. He was laughing at her! The nerve! He shook his head.

"Just Uncas."

"Well, 'Just Uncas'," she replied, miffed. "This is all very interesting, but you will call me Miss Alice."

She sounded very, very British.

"Agreed, Miss Alice."

She nodded and turned yet again to leave, but his voice caught her in a grip.

"I think you are very beautiful, Miss Alice. Also brave."

Alice turned slowly. Did she hear correctly? Brave? Beautiful? She knew she was pretty, but she never regarded herself as beautiful. That was Cora; bold, brave, and beautiful.

A feeling arose in her chest and she gazed up at him, trying to untangle it all. Why could she not breathe when he looked at her in that manner? Her thoughts seemed turned to mush and she did the one thing that seemed to make sense.

She leaned in and kissed him.

He kissed her back with an aching sweetness and used his fingertips to bring her closer. The kiss lasted almost a minute. She felt as if a tiny, white, hot fire broke out under her skin and she stopped, gasping for breath.

Had he felt it?

His dark eyes seemed even darker, and it sent a thrill of warmth spiraling into her belly. They stared at each other for a full ten seconds before leaning back.

Alice felt frozen.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight," he responded in kind. They both slowly turned and walked into opposite ends of the night.

Alice shook herself to stop daydreaming. She doubted many women in London could say they experienced something this taboo, this forbidden… lust for a savage man.

Well, she had decided long before this moment that Uncas was no savage. Uncas saved her life and Uncas had breathed a new life into her, even with the death of her father and friend, Duncan.

Picking up the soaked bandages, Alice trudged back up the hill to her sister and Uncas.


	2. Chapter 2

Alice walked briskly up to the group and placed the clean bandages onto the grass, hoping the morning sun would dry them. She felt every single ache this morn, both on her bruised body and in her heart.

Alice sank onto the grass slowly and realized she had somehow gone numb over the last day. The full horror of the situation was finally sinking in.

Her family was torn asunder.

Her father had been slaughtered.

She and Cora had absolutely no one else in the world, save these men...

The sun was now fully in the sky and casted its rays upon everyone. It hit Cora's dark tresses, illuminating the reddish tones in her hair. Alice felt her heart swell upon gazing at her sister. She felt so much love at that moment; fearless, strong Cora who never shied away from danger but whose love for her younger sister exceeded all limitations and expectations.

Alice knew her entrance into the world had casted a dark shadow into her father's heart, never to be lifted, for he had loved his wife deeply. I would not have blamed him for abhorring the sight of me, thought Alice grimly.

But no. Edmund Munro had loved both his girls with equal fervor and never seemed to regret having not sired a son. To lose my son to one of England's many bloody entanglements overseas? I would not trade one boy for both my lasses. He was known to mutter upon occasion at dinner parties, which made those very proper British gentlemen frown in disapproval.

It was the one thing Col. Munro ever said that came even remotely close to sounding unpatriotic to the British crown. A Scotsman by birth, he considered himself an Englishman through and through and had been quite rigid in his thinking.

Alice smiled sadly. She had loved her father very much, as well as Duncan.

Cora's voice jarred her out of her reverie. "Alice, are you hungry? Nathaniel has gone to catch some game in the forest."

Alice nodded mutely and then glanced at Uncas' prone figure. His chest rose and fell, but at least, though weak, he still lived. She suddenly felt as if she were being watched and knew instinctively it was Chingachgook once more, observing her through dark, hooded eyes. At that image Alice quickly glanced away, sparing the older man's son from too much attention.

What must he think? she thought nervously.

His gaze was not distrustful, but not warm either. Alice was no fool. At least in this way, she understood the world. Father's jealously guarded their children, no matter how grown, and what filial child would not obey a father's wish?

Alice herself did not understand what was happening or what was to come. She only knew her feelings for Uncas were strong, but she was hesitant, unwilling really to take any action. The worlds of Indians and whites were still far off from each other on sequestered shores. The truth of the matter was, and Alice did not delude herself, that Cora was braver than she would ever be. Alice did not think she would be able to do what lay in her heart... to join her heart with an Indian.

A pain filled her soul in that second, as if an iron hand was squeezing the life blood from her heart. She did not know where she belonged. Not anymore. Throughout her life, she strived only to please her father, to make up for having cost her mother her life. Her father had been a brave man. All the Munro's were.

Alice gazed resolutely onto the far off mountains.

I will not disgrace him now by such a shameful spectacle, Alice decided.

With that, she quelled the erratic, painful thudding of her heart and went to sit nearer to her sister.

Uncas awoke to pain and drowsiness, a constant throbbing permeating from inside his whole body. It took a long moment to recall where he was and why. Gasping and clutching the still healing wound in his side, he slowly sat up. Chingachgook was by his side in a heartbeat.

"Lay still, my son," Chingachgook spoke calmly, bracing Uncas' body with his. Uncas shook his head, his throat parched.

"Mabei?" Uncas murmured in Mohican, asking for water.

Chingachgook nodded his assent. He picked up a flask of water and handed it to his son. Uncas received it and looked carefully around. The sun was hitting him directly in his eyes.

"Wneeweh," he said. Thank you.

After a long swig, his dark eyes turned restlessly, seeking the one who had haunted his fevered dreams. His gaze settled upon the slender form of Alice Munro. He drank in the sight of her, her lithe figure, skin so white and delicate, and her golden hair, he couldn't help but look at in wonder.

He had seen the white settler women with the same moon like hair, but still, he looked upon it with intensity. Alice suddenly looked up and caught his gaze, sky blue eyes meeting dark brown, and she held his gaze for a moment before glancing slowly at Chingachgook and turning away.

Uncas felt perturbed. He saw much in her sad eyes. The light that before shone so brilliantly in them while staring up at him was now, somehow, diminished. He had not expected to feel affection for a young white girl, but something in her moved him tremendously.

In many ways she was just a common Yengeese woman, disdainful at times and downright snobby. But she was also contemplative and possessed a stillness of being he recognized. He remembered the first time on the trek to the fort, when his gaze once more turned to the blonde girl. She was unaware of being watched and stared at the horizon with such sweet sadness. He remembered thinking she looked so young and frail, a pretty flower trapped in a nest of thorns.

She was a bundle of contradictions that Uncas found intriguing and amusing. She lifted her nose in the air when Uncas spoke out of turn, yet she was fascinated by the beauty of nature and the animals and not once complained.

Uncas came to realize her hostility was fear, and fear of what he figured out due to her constant, shy looks in his direction. In this way, as his regard for her grew, he knew hers did as well because she became more sullen and her eyes then rarely left the ground.

When he kissed her at the fort in a move so unlike him, he felt her shiver. Her saddened eyes drew him up those mountains in a frantic race to save her. After that, her eyes were still wide but not fearful, and her look was steady. Now it was cool, but as usual, he saw beyond the pools of blue, the well mannered aristocratic girl, the confines of her world... Her eyes held a hidden pain and regret. His face remained his usual stoic mask, but inside, his gut twisted.

Unless he was very much mistaken, she had just spurned him in a very subtle way.

Chingachgook watched his son's intense staring of the Moon Girl Munro and again felt the indecision rise in his chest. It was a scrutiny that was not leering but not quite so innocent either. But the fact remained- She was a white woman.

This should have settled the matter and it was beyond him why Uncas felt this stirring in his heart for the girl. Chingachgook knew what love was. Of course he did. His brief years with Machooksis had left him with an agonizing sense of loss.

Their only son, Uncas, should have been married by now to a Delaware woman. He should have fathered children. But he did not broach the subject with Uncas about that matter, or the younger Munro.

It was not in Chingachgook's nature to prod, though he wondered what Uncas saw in the girl. He assumed she was beautiful among the Yengeese, but to him, she was all sickly white; her hair, her eyes, her skin... She was withdrawn and did not seem to possess the strong spirit so valued by the frontier men.

He would leave it to Uncas, Chingachgook decided. If the time arose to speak to his son, then speak he would. But a man's heart was his own business. He only prayed to the Master of Life to direct his son in a righteous path.

Suddenly, there were footsteps and Chingachgook craned his neck to see his white son bound up with three dead rabbits perched carelessly on his shoulder.

Nathaniel smiled at his brother in relief to see him awake. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat down next to the dark Munro girl. It seemed his older son had found a woman at last and Chingachgook approved of her. She was iron willed and decisive, a good match for his white son.

"Hard to catch?" Asked Uncas as he picked up a dead rabbit, blood dribbling down its brown fur.

Nathaniel nodded, giving his customary smirk. "Did it the old way." Meaning he had set traps for the rabbits using twigs or whatever he could find in the forest.

After giving a quick prayer of thanks for the rabbits and sustenance, the men washed, skinned, and prepared the rabbits and discussed what to do.

They surmised that the best way to head west would be to head out first towards the northern most branch of the Susquehanna River. From there they would meet the friendlier Indians for aid. Unlike the constantly warring Huron, the Lenape, for example, were not allied with the whites nor were they against them.

"Lenape..." said Cora thoughtfully, sounding out the name. "Is this tribe similar to the Mohicans?"

"Not really," answered Nathaniel. "I mean, I reckon so in the way that we're all Indians and descended from the Delawares of old, but we aint the same. My father and brother are the last of our kind. They are the last Mohicans."

"What happened to the others?" asked Cora curiously. "I do apologize if I am prying..."

Nathaniel waved a hand swiftly. "No. Ask away. My Father's people were killed off by diseases like small pox and measles and the yellow vomit, war, white man's rifle."

Nathaniel cracked a lopsided grin. "It falls onto Uncas now to find a woman and continue the line. Make some strong Mohicans sons!"

Nathaniel and Cora laughed. Uncas did not even glance up from his food and Chingachgook glanced at the Moon Girl.

Her fingers froze over the rabbit meat and started to make peculiar nervous gestures in quick succession. She tapped her fingers rapidly and shifted, then placed the meat down, cleared her throat and rubbed her hand on her forehead. Chingachgook missed none of this.

She looked unsettled.

She looked up and gave a wan smile. "I do beg your pardon, but may I be excused?" she asked with the utmost formality.

Her sister and Nathaniel glanced at each other and laughed.

"My goodness Alice," replied Cora with an affectionate smile. "Is it time for high tea?"

Alice gave a short laugh, walked swiftly down the shaded path of the forest and disappeared.

"Do not wander far!" Cora called after her sister, then, with Nathaniel, began packing up their small camp.

Chingachgook did not have to look behind him to know his younger son would soon follow the Moon Girl down the same path. He shook his head with a sigh and helped his white son and his woman pack up the camp.

Alice burst into a run as soon as she was sure she was out of sight and earshot. She picked up her torn, pink skirts and hurtled deeper into the woods until she stopped by a tall tree and leaned against it. Her breath came out in gasps.

She almost had not made it. A second longer with her sister and her new love and their lighthearted jesting and talks of a wife for Uncas... Alice gripped the near black bark of the stately tree as her heart seemed to squeeze again.

I will not cry over a damn savage! She told herself fiercely and was instantly sickened with remorse over her thought and her uncouth language. She closed her eyes, took an enormous breath and exhaled slowly… she calmed down slightly.

Alice turned and slumped her back against the tree, staring at the impossible beauty of the forest. So many birds, some familiar, some she had never seen before flit around the forest trees chirping merrily. The moss hung down heavily onto the ample tree trunks. Green and brown hues everywhere. She breathed in deeply and smelled the intangible tang of nature, the untamed frontier. Since a mere girl, Alice had been enchanted by all things free.

Alice straightened herself quickly. She knew she must banish Uncas from her mind. She could not love an Indian.

"But now what?" she whispered to herself.

In England, she would be alone and without resources. In the colonies, she did not want to intrude upon her sister and her soon to be husband… and she did not want to be near Uncas. She did not want to be near when he married an Indian woman and began to have children.

He was the last of his kind, Nathaniel had said. Alice had seen the wistful manner in which Chingachgook looked at his son. Alice recognized it because her own Father often wore the same expression. It was a look that spoke volumes in the way of hope. Hope for their children, for their futures. An Indian and a white woman... it was not meant to be.

"Miss Alice?" A voice jolted Alice and she gasped.

Turning, she saw Uncas standing there with some difficulty. He had crept up on her, silent as a deer. His green shirt was tattered and bloodstained and he looked drawn and tired. But to Alice, he was still as handsome as ever. She shook her head quickly.

Uncas stared at her with unflappable calm. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Thank you for saving my life on those cliffs, sir," was Alice's reply. Uncas lifted a black brow at 'sir.'It was very clipped and formal.

There was a pregnant pause as they regarded each other warily. Uncas ignored her last comment.

"When we were at the fort –"

Alice cut him off. "When we were at the fort, many things happened. The fear I felt led me down a path that was most ill-mannered and unbecoming of a young lady. My nerves were shattered."

Uncas stared at her with a look of complete incomprehension; he hadn't understood half of what she said. Alice drew a shaky breath as he started to slowly walk up to her, his warm brown eyes on hers intently.

"Stop right there!" she said sternly. "You forget yourself, sir!"

"Will you stop with this sir?" he said, looking annoyed for the first time ever. She ignored this.

"What happened at the fort was… for lack of a better word, regrettable. It was terribly forward of me to engage in such wanton display of affection with... your kind."

Alice felt the very air change, a sudden chill draping over her and it came directly from his suddenly icy eyes. She met his gaze and held it until he slowly backed away from her.

Uncas smiled coldly and said, "I just came to tell you we'll be heading out soon." His expression now was utterly devoid of expression. "So don't get lost."


	3. Chapter 3

Uncas walked up the hill to meet the other travelers, his face impassive, but within him, a storm was brewing. His hands clenched momentarily, still smarting from Alice's rejection. He remembered her words, "your kind..."

She had said them with such coldness. Of course, he was use to the overwhelming hatred of the white men. It was impossible to not feel it growing up in this land, overrun with greedy Yengeese who sneered at an Indian, but were more than willing to trade furs and take an Indian woman for a squaw.

But Uncas had glimpsed something in her, openness rare in whites, even with her British sense of importance. It had all come to naught, Uncas decided with defeat. She would never adapt to the rough life of the frontier.

It was better for her to return to England and live the life of a sheltered, wealthy young lady.

He reached the crest of the hill, where the sun's rays were arcs of an aurora of colors.

"Let us go," he ordered, wincing as he bent to pick up satchels off the ground, mindful of his cracked ribs and tightly bound left forearm.

Cora's eyes widened in alarm. "But my sister –"

"We have to keep moving," said Uncas with the finality of a door slamming. Then he looked at Cora's apprehensive face. "She'll be up soon."

No sooner had Uncas uttered the words that Alice quietly crept up, shaking her skirts lightly and brushing the golden hair from her eyes. Her face was serious, her eyes grim, and she looked downward as she moved towards her sister.

"Do we leave now?" she asked quietly. She saw a flash of white as Cora smiled at her.

"Yes, sister," Cora replied. "Everything has been arranged. But we must not dawdle. We will move south to the mouth of the river and then more until we meet the Ohio Valley."

Alice felt a rare flash of temper, gone before it had time to fester.

Who is dawdling? she thought. I carry my own weight. The same as the next person.

She nodded wearily, rubbing the scabbing wounds encircling her wrist and then spared a quick glance at Uncas. But he was staring outward, appraising the forest as he shouldered his musket with his good arm. Alice glanced down, then, at the whim of the sudden irritability that seemed to plague her, glanced up sharply and kept her gaze focused on the trail and the trees.

I will not avert my gaze any longer, she thought scornfully. I am not a child. I left that in a battlefield strewn with corpses.

Nathaniel trailed a finger down Cora's cheek as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing at the odd group assembled.

Cora nodded stoutly, picking up more satchels and a musket. Alice did the same, also picking up flasks and a long, sheathed hatchet and turning it curiously. It had interesting black and red geometric designs woven around the hilt and the beauty of the object blindsided her for a long moment before she remembered that it was, in actuality, a tool of death which in all likelihood had taken its fair share of lives and scalps.

It was meant for destruction, not admiration.

She quickly rolled it into the pocketed folds of her skirt.

The group moved onward in the August early morning heat, Uncas never sparing her even the most minute glance, and nor did Alice to him. Still, she felt the proximity of Chingachgook weigh heavily upon her, ever present, ever watchful.

They had been walking for several hours; the sun was now high in the sky.

Cora glanced sporadically at her younger sister, brows slightly furrowed. There was something different about her sister, but Cora couldn't quite place it. It wasn't really the war, the bloodshed, or the violence her young eyes had been forced to witness. If anything, Cora felt Alice was reacting admirably for a young girl; no theatrics, no sobs, no fainting spells.

She is carrying herself differently, decided Cora. Something weighs upon her mind. Something new...

Nathaniel was suddenly at her side, brushing his fingers against hers lightly.

Cora glanced up quickly and smiled. "It is not considered polite to creep up upon a young lady, Mr. Poe. Please make your presence known."

Nathaniel grinned at her mock seriousness. He loved her spirit. Did she realize that a sense of humor was a saving grace? "I enjoy creepin' up on you, Ms. Munro."

Cora ducked her head and blushed slightly, then laughed. "In truth," said Cora. "It feels good to jest. I worry about my sister. I know her as well as I know myself. She looks so bewildered."

She looked behind them, at Alice, who walked near the back, squinting up the sky and the treetops.

Cora lowered her voice. "Alice has changed so, Nathaniel. I wonder what ails her..."

Cora, lost in her perplexity, did not notice Nathaniel's eyes dart quickly towards the back of his brother's broad shoulders, then back towards Cora. He took his time answering, choosing his words.

"Maybe aint nothin' wrong... I reckon... I mean to say, what if the change in your Alice is good?"

Cora mulled over these words, but seemed unable to decide. "Perhaps..." she said grudgingly, wiping the perspiration dripping down her face.

It was early afternoon, three days later. The group had walked many miles, stopping late evenings for sleep and to hunt small game, yet keeping a quick, steady pace. Now they paused at a glade sheltered from the sun by a green canopy of leaves.

Chingachgook surveyed the group silently. The dark Munro girl sat down with a wince. He could tell her legs ached. His white son was by her side and they spoke in murmurs.

Uncas still stood in that posture of ready alertness, scanning their surroundings, his dark green shirt even more dirtied.

The younger girl trudged wearily, bathed in sweat, the air escaping her lungs in quick gasps. She grasped a fistful of her torn skirts and sat slowly, shakily down.

Nathaniel noticed her shortness of breath and leaned forward. "How are you feelin', Miss Munro?"

Alice did not reply for a long moment, waiting for her racing heart to slow to a normal pace. And then she offered this: "Please call me Alice, and I hope with your permission to call you Nathaniel?"

He cocked his head with a smile. "Aint bother me. Call me whatever you wish. But do you need some water? There's a stream down yonder. We'll give you gals some privacy."

Alice nodded. "Water would be lovely. But I insist my sister go before me." Alice turned to see the usual motherly protectiveness in her sister's pretty face. "Please Cora. I insist. You look so dreadfully overheated. Please go and take your time."

"But we should in fact go together –"

Alice shook her head emphatically. She had sensed her sister's gaze on her the majority of their trip and knew she burned to ask Alice questions. Cora was quite astute, and Alice was not adept at telling lies no matter how small.

"It will give us some semblance of privacy. You go first and refresh yourself. I wish before anything else to catch my breath."

Cora nodded uncertainly. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and got up, smoothing her skirts.

"I will return shortly." She shot her sister a look of silent communication.

What is the matter with you?

Alice said nothing, but merely smiled slightly. Cora turned and disappeared behind the brush.

Now alone, the three men and lone woman stared at each other somewhat awkwardly, though Alice still could not bring herself to look upon Uncas. Alice hated these sorts of moments.

"Where are we now?" she asked hurriedly.

There was a pause. Nathaniel affected an air of slight confusion.

"Where are we, Uncas?" he asked his mute brother.

Uncas shot him a warning look and Nathaniel stared beguilingly back. Their father watched this all, but said nothing.

"A day from the mouth of the river," answered Uncas, still glancing around at the trees. "Very near the Delaware Valley."

Nathaniel looked away from Uncas, torn between laughter and annoyance.

Didn't Uncas realize how obvious he was acting? He had seen the way Uncas stared at the young girl on the trek to the fort so many days before, and Nathaniel knew that more than three glances at a woman meant Uncas was infatuated.

At first, Nathaniel took the stares to be unabashed lust and couldn't blame him. She was good looking, after all, in an airy, delicate way. Everything about her bellowed untouchable; her modest, buttoned up dress, her long hair swept up tightly, her eyes grounded and hands folded.

When Uncas scrambled up that mountainside, Nathaniel had been appalled and baffled. His heart thudded in sorrowful agony at the thought of losing his brother. Only by taking a proverbial step back did it slowly make sense. There was more to it, Nathaniel decided. He sensed the tension mounting and how carefully these two people avoided making eye contact.

Nathaniel looked cautiously at his father, not knowing how to even begin to gauge what his reaction would be at the thought of Uncas settling down with a white woman. It was a sobering thought.

Alice nodded and took a deep breath, expelling it slowly. She felt almost as wild as one of the forest animals. She was coated in sweat and dirt and God knows what else.

"But what will happen, I meant to say?" asked Alice.

Nathaniel chose the most direct answer, preferring the truth. "Cora and I plan to head west to Can-tuck-ee... There's land a-plenty down there. No bondages to the crown. You will come with us, outta your own free will. I mean, you can stay or you can go, but Cora and I rather you came with us. 'Course, choice is yours and only yours. My Father hasn't decided. He reckons he'll go with us for a bit, then come back to the Delaware Valley to see how Uncas is faring."

Alice froze and looked at the ground, the old pain twisting her heart. She had a hunch of why Uncas was staying in the Delaware Valley but was too afraid to ask.

Nathaniel answered the unspoken question, gently. "It's just a plan. It aint set in stone. But this year, Uncas will stay with our people, the Delawares –"

"Yes, yes," Alice burst out. "I know all about Uncas staying with his people to choose a bride and fulfill his duties... find a wife and start a family."

Alice could not figure out what had seized her. Something mysterious loosened her tongue and she felt all her thoughts spew out like bile. "There is no need to adapt that merciful tone of voice. There is no need for me to play the role of lady any longer. I may not be possessed of a fighting spirit, but I no longer wish to be a burden and I do not bloody dawdle."

Three pairs of eyes scrutinized her. Nathaniel uncharacteristically did not smirk, but rather tried to appease her temper. "I only meant –"

Alice kept up her angry chatter. "Furthermore, I shan't return to London, nor will I play second fiddle in the wilderness of Can-tuck-ee." For the first time in days, the dark eyes of Uncas met hers and she could not help herself rearing in self-righteous misery. "I will not go to the Delaware Valley either, obviously. But I wish you the best of luck, Uncas. I always have."

The words, taken in context, were as good a declaration of love that Alice was prepared to give. Uncas felt it and his brows arched quickly. He straightened his face because he knew what the game was by now. He was an Indian, after all, he thought derisively.

"So where will you be headed?" he asked, unmoved.

Alice unconsciously bit her lip. There had been a plan formulating in her head for almost a day now, but it was foolish and dangerous... not to mention daring. She felt cut adrift from her old self, from the tea time gossip and flirting behind the folds of a fan.

America was a place of ideas, and she had an absurd idea where a thousand things could go wrong.

But did the sages not say the best help is in thyself? Alice mentally asked herself. The hardest part was breaking the news to her sister.

"I have my own plans," she said simply. She got up and dusted herself off. "Now, I beg your pardon gentlemen, but I must speak with my sister."

There! She had done it. Alice felt wild relief unlike anything she had ever felt before. She had spoken her mind to smug Nathaniel and the others and it felt good. It was a tiny victory, but now, for one, she felt almost as brave as Cora. She dipped into a small curtsy, not knowing why, and walked quickly into the same brush as her sister.

The three men sat and stared after her for a moment. Nathaniel seemed slightly dumbfounded, even for him. Uncas was bemused and cocked his head to the side. Only Chingachgook seemed unfazed, but watched her receding back, thoughtfully.

Alice pushed branches aside, straining to see her sister. She walked for another minute and then stopped, unsure. She wheeled around slowly.

Am I lost? She thought fretfully.

She closed her eyes and listened, faintly detecting the sound of water lapping. She broke into a light run, bending the corner and heard a low conversation. Alice took another step then her body fastened itself to the ground.

Something was wrong.

Then it clicked in place in her mind.

There wasn't supposed to be a conversation. Unless Cora had gotten into the habit of conversing with herself. Alice fervently hoped it was the latter. Dread washed over her because just then, unmistakably, she heard a man's voice. Her feet carried themselves in their own will to a tree. Her breath came out in little gasps and then she remembered the night in the burial grounds, hiding from the French. She had almost given them all away with her loud panting breaths.

Remembering this, she measured tiny breaths and exhaled through her nose. Then she slowly, silently, inched her head to the side of the tree, taking care not to reveal herself. What she saw made absolute horror latch onto her.

Her sister was surrounded by a group of French men who seemed to be interrogating her.

Alice could tell they were French from their filthy, tattered uniforms bearing the colors of their flag. The taller of the men with a thick beard had Cora's arm in a grip and leaned forward to sneer something at her. Cora angrily shook her head, causing the others to chuckle loudly.

Alice felt the blinding panic seize her, the fear that had always plagued her. It made her legs turn to jelly and her thoughts scatter. A scream rose in her throat but she quickly clamped her hand to her mouth.

Think, think! she commanded herself, but she couldn't. She tried again, breathing deeply. How? What can I- How?

She did not want to leave her sister. She would never do that. But Alice knew she could not take on a group of violent ruffians on her own. They would both be accosted and then killed, the waiting Mohican men never the wiser. If she left now to get help from the others, Cora might well have her throat slit by the time help arrived.

Alice was rooted to the spot in the throes of agony at not being able to make the simplest of decisions as per usual.

Not my sister! she thought in anguish.

Then she stopped and took another shuddering breath. Options weighed, she decided to creep silently back the way she came and break into a run to the men. It was only about a minute. She knew her sister would say whatever she could to borrow time. With that, she shakily took her hands off the bark of the tree and took a small step back.

At that moment, however, she was violently propelled back against the same tree and felt her arm twist behind her. Agony exploded up her arm and she felt her face cutting against the rough bark. She tried to scream, but she was roughly wheeled around and a dirty hand covered her mouth.

The unmistakable point of a knife pressed into her ribs. Standing before her was a wild looking Frenchman, his uniform in tatters, though nothing seemed wilder than his dark, menacing eyes. He leaned forward and Alice gagged as she was met with rotten breath.

"Ne bougez pas!" he snarled, tightening his hold, his maniacal eyes pinning her down.


	4. Chapter 4

Alice tried to remember how to breathe as she was shoved into the clearing where her sister was being questioned. The dirty Frenchman pushed her hard and she fell on her knees, causing her to become dizzy with pain as the ground made contact with her already bruised forearm.

She gave a cry and Cora, wrenching her arms free, screamed, "Stop it!"

The men gave identical grins as they eyed them. The tall one with the thick beard looked annoyed at Cora's outburst and yanked her around by her hair, snarling something at her. Alice was too terror stricken to try to decipher his rapid French.

Her eyes remained upon Cora, praying and hoping that these men would spare her. Only five men assembled wore the same lewd smiles and Alice had no trouble discerning their thoughts.

The same man turned his eyes malevolently towards Alice. She tried to plow through her school girl French, which was elementary at best.

"Mon soeur," she said beseechingly, pointing her good arm towards her sister. "Ne la blessez pas!" She pleaded on her sister's behalf.

This man, the man who had been threatening her sister, grabbed her by the pink cloth of her collar and began his round of questioning aimed at her. Alice gave a squeal of shock as tears began to pour down her face. He asked her a question, but Alice, locked in the grip of her terror could not understand.

"Où sont ils?!" he hissed.

Where are they? Alice repeated to herself.

Finally, she could make sense of this whole affair. At first, she had thought they were trappers, but as far as she knew, French trappers would not don military ensemble. She could only guess they were French soldiers who had deserted their own military to offer their allegiance to more fortuitous causes. And now they wanted her to give away the whereabouts of the Mohicans; the very men who had risked their lives time and again for her safety and her sister's.

Alice shook her head quickly. "Je n'ai vu personne!" she whispered, denying anything.

The tall, strong man's eyes narrowed dangerously. He pressed his face close to hers and bellowed, "Menteur!"

Before Alice had time to defend herself, she was sprawled on the ground. The Frenchman had backhanded her and Alice swore she saw stars as she clumsily tried get up.

Cora gave a strangled cry and her face turned apoplectic with rage. "Don't you touch – you bastards!" She screeched as another man, smaller and blonde pounced on her and snaked his arm around her neck, holding her fast.

Alice's vision swam as she regained her footing. She tried to piece together French words- "Jamais dans ma vie! Je ne sais pas!"

It all sounded so garbled to her that she wondered how they did not laugh. She only consistently tried to get her point across. She and Cora were alone and did not know anyone else in these woods.

"Où allons-nous de pair avec cet argument?" another one of the men burst out, darting his eyes around uneasily.

Alice could not understand this phrase, but felt a shiver of foreboding. She pleaded to the powers that Uncas and the other men be kept safe from harm. Her eyes met the frantic eyes of Cora and Alice knew Cora was thinking the exact same thing.

Chingachgook watched the small of Alice Munro's back as she disappeared into the woods. It was all somewhat interesting, to say the least. He had no idea that quiet slip of a girl had such strong emotions. He had detected anger, resentment, fear, uncertainty, as well as strong melancholy.

Chingachgook was an observer of men; he always had been. There were some who were natural talkers and Chingachgook was a listener, an observer, always watching and seldom speaking. Words did not carry meanings so much as the white men believed.

This much Chingachgook knew.

Words could be hollow and without truth or meaning. He could look into the pools of someone's eyes and know their true meaning.

The blonde girl's words were harsh and guttural, but honest, Chingachgook decided. Her feelings were raw and young, but he detected no deceit in her. Only a bewildered sadness and untried, girlish passion. He did not think this Moon colored girl possessed the fortitude to withstand the bleak reality of the wilderness and did not think badly of her because of it. The paths of life were long and winding. What someone believed in their youth could turn treacherously against them. She would find her way.

"It aint that serious…" Nathaniel muttered, stretching his legs and tearing his gaze from the path Alice Munro had just flounced into.

He smiled to himself. He still liked her. If anything, he enjoyed her little tantrum. It showed him and the others there was still some fire in her not dampened by the ravages of war. She had looked so much like Cora with her eyes flashing like that.

He slanted Uncas a slightly mocking look and opened his mouth to say something to pester his younger brother, something alluding to a certain blonde girl.

His words were stolen, however, because their father suddenly sat up straighter, his dark eyes intense and watchful. He looked around slowly, cautiously, and the silence that befell the family felt like a blanket of ice.

"Something is wrong," said Chingachgook wearily.

Uncas felt it, too. The air seemed tense. Even the cacophony of nature seemed unbalanced. A moment ago he had been irritated, perceiving his brother well enough to know he was about to spew off some cheap joke at his expense.

Now the world seemed heavy with warning.

He slowly unwounded himself from his position, his movement slow and languorous, but with the air of a snake about to strike. He was in his element.

A hunter.

Nathaniel concentrated on the signs their father had taught them to read and knew danger was afoot. Then he suddenly remembered Cora and felt confusion give way to raw nerves.

"The women," he said quietly.

He knew panic and fear would solve nothing, but knew one truth – he had found Cora Munro, his match in every way.

In a world of chaos and brutality, a bright flame had been lit. He would not lose her today.


	5. Chapter 5

Cora could never remember a time when she did not love her sister. Even as a very young child, she understood that she must always protect her. Her Father always entrusted her with this. She knew Alice was fundamentally not weak, but rather of a nervous disposition. For this reason, as the bedraggled Frenchmen shoved them deeper into the woodlands, it was imperative for Cora to ease her sister's mind.

"Alice?" she panted, clutching her sister's arm for support.

Alice stumbled and nearly fell, causing the bearded man to spat a curse and give her an extra hard push. Cora glared at him hatefully.

"Yes?" asked Alice numbly.

This scenario was starting to feel too familiar. It was strange, but given the fact that they had faced a barrage of danger recently, now that the men were moving them somewhere, the faintheartedness was being replaced with something else. A weak resolve, and not because they had been lucky so far and saved in the nick of time. But in Alice's mind, they had already faced the worst they could endure.

"Do you remember the puppy you found as a child that Papa would not allow you to keep?"

Alice looked at her confusedly. What was she on about? There were things of a more pressing nature. "Yes," she replied.

"It tracked muddy paw prints all over the dining room and tea room." Cora remembered. Alice cracked a smile at the memory.

"Taisez-vous!" was the rude retort from the rear of the group.

Alice paid them no mind.

"It chewed up your favorite pair of dancing shoes. It knocked down and broke Grandmother's urn that she left Papa."

Alice's smile widened as she recalled Col. Munro's red-faced tirade when he saw his Mother's urn shattered at the foot of the library fireplace and the girls' all too innocent faces.

"Do you remember what you named him?" Cora pressed.

Alice sighed and thumbed a rivulet of sweat that was meandering down her collar bone. She shrugged, thinking of Scotland. "Zeus?" she said, straining to recall.

Cora shook her head. "Atlas."

Cora continued. "When you found him in the marshes not far from our home, he was a tiny, frail, whimpering thing…"

The Frenchman in the front craned his neck back as he led them deeper into the shadowy woods and looked at them in contempt and warning, as if to convey that his patience was at an end.

Cora lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. "Papa told you that he would not last the night as he was weak and without his mother," Cora said in a rush. "But you knew he was stronger that that, that he had survived a storm and starvation, that he would have the strength of ten wolves, the heart of a lion you said! You named him Atlas. He became so strong that he accompanied Papa in his military campaigns."

Their father had come to regard the dog greatly. It had eventually died in some far off land.

A melancholy gripped Alice, a fear, a frenzy for wanting to see her sister alive and well. Perhaps married to Nathaniel, perhaps not. But no one chasing them down, no one dragging them away, no one wishing them harm. Cora had been her constant fixture in life. She was stability and warmth and love. She knew why she was talking of the dog, to distract her and raise her spirits. What Cora said next caused Alice's heart to swell with emotion.

"You are Atlas to me, sister," she said steadily. "Do not forget that. Even if you do not know your own strength, I do. You have the heart of a lion. You can hold the world on your shoulders and not break."

__________________________________________________________________________________

Nathaniel raced down a ravine, blood rushing in his ears, fear for the girls' safety blinding him. His father called him in Delaware to stop. By then they knew they were taken by force and were being dragged through the forest, no doubt to some camp.

"They will not harm them. They are worth too much," his father stated calmly. It was true. Well-bred English girls could bring in a tidy ransom. But who would take them?

"French or Ottawa," said Uncas, concentrating towards the nearby hillside. It was as if he had read Nathaniel's mind, but as brothers, they had always been in-tune like that.

"It's the same goddamned thing!" exploded Nathaniel. "Those French dogs are always allied to the Ottawa for fur or gold or just against the English." He gripped his hatchet, wanting nothing more than to bury it into someone's skull. Into whoever had taken them. Whoever had taken Cora.

Uncas considered this. "Maybe. But there are many French stragglers who have left the military. The Ottawa answer to no one. At least the French have some knowledge of their worth. The Ottawa would have just killed them on the war path. We know they were taken. It had to be for ransom."

"But Ottawa would not harm them if they decided they were more useful alive," Nathaniel countered mulishly. "Frenchmen have a habit of -"

"Stop," came his father's stern command. Even now as a seasoned man, Nathaniel would not dare disobey a direct order. He only simmered in silence. Chingachgook eyed him disapprovingly. "We have seen no indication of that. Your opinions and ideas are clouding your mind. We will follow. We will track. We will take their scalps."

Uncas stared at the ground. He also imagined what the Frenchmen could do to hapless women. He pushed it out of his mind. Then again, he thought, they are made of sterner stuff. He looked up at his brother's scowling demeanor.

"We know they are alive. They are heading east."

They took off in a run.

Later that morning, the three men stopped. Chingachgook studied the ground and the bark of the trees carefully. Nathaniel snorted in disgust. Those half-wits hadn't even tried to conceal their tracks.

"They have quickened their pace," Uncas concluded. "They can't be far." He pointed near the brush. "One of them fell." Uncas felt a weight in his stomach. The last few weeks were some sort of dream from the Great Spirit. He shifted his feet and his eyes followed the bend that turned sharply. He could feel it in the air. They really were not far.

The trio sped up. About two miles down, they paused again. Chingachgook calmly drew out his tomahawk. It was a sharp movement that would have surprised an outsider to witness, a man of his age being so agile. It was known that Chingachgook had sharp instincts and could strike a decidedly deadly blow.

Uncas nodded silently and poised the rifle on his shoulder, then stopped. He, instead, handed his brother the rifle. Nathaniel was the better shot. He drew out his hatchet and Nathaniel tossed him another. Fully armed, he crouched behind the foliage. He was in his element. The ground, the leaves, the air all indicated that the time to strike was now. With only the most minimal of movements, he carefully brushed the leaves back to peer down the winding road, hatchets ready. His eyes narrowed.

There were several men sitting in a semi-circle. Their colors could only mean they were French. A large, burly one with a beard seemed to be the one in charge. Wearing a look painted in rage, they all whispered urgently and glared to the side. Uncas's gaze followed theirs. It's them… He thought in relief. They were safe. That was the most important thing. They looked tired and strained but otherwise unharmed.

Uncas continued to observe as the angry fat one reached over and spoke to Alice in his native tongue. Her eyes downcast she shook her head almost demurely. The man grunted and grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. Cora began to lean towards her sister, her arm outstretched. Alice shook her head forcefully to her sister.

"I don't speak French. Not well." Uncas clearly heard this come from Alice. He cocked his ear to listen. The Frenchmen frowned. "But we are the daughters of an English colonel. If you were to take us to our father, the reward would be bountiful."

The Frenchman started at her. Alice gave a tiny sigh and bit on her parched lip. She cleared her throat. "Je ne parle pas -"

The man pushed her back hard. "I speak English. I know your words," he interrupted. His pronunciation was gruff and heavily accented. "You would like to go to the fort, non? To see ton père?" He chuckled. "I am no fool, mon cherie. Your English officers will shoot me on sight. We will take you to mes amis, les Otowa. The reward will be bountiful, indeed." He chuckled, then went back to ignoring them.

Uncas had seen enough. He ducked back and raised his palm up, then turned it around quickly. It was a sign that they had made up to signify there was more than one to deal with. Nathaniel and Chingachgook joined him as they stood, readying. On their father's mark, they sprung into action.

Alice's head jerked at a sudden noise as three blurred shadows had leaped to the center out of nowhere. She dumbly stared at the big man to her side as his nostrils flared and his eyes dilated in fear. He gave a roar of rage and jumped up, reaching for his pistol. Alice flinched as a the sharp crack of bone breaking reached her ears. She shuddered, watching the large man fall and lay still, eyes staring but not seeing. A hatchet caved his skull in.

Cora and Alice scrambled to get up, their skirts tangling them. Alice then chose to stay down. Another man, a lean wiry one thudded to the ground. Chingachgook promptly leaned down and deprived him of his scalp.

The scene had become absolute bedlam. The Frenchmen ran about in a panic, trying to shoot the Mohicans but seemed no match. Nathaniel kneeled, aimed and fired one that was fleeing, felling him instantly.

Alice's breaths came out in shorts bursts of panting. Clutching her skirts, she felt something hard. She had felt it earlier but had not dared to take it out. Unraveling the folded pockets of her skirts, she looked quickly at the designs of the Indian blade. She balked and looked helplessly around. Alice did not know how to use a knife.

Another Frenchman crashed down almost next to her, mouth agape in agony, jutting teeth stained red from the blood bubbling out. An ugly, deep wound on his side glared angrily, the product of a well placed blow from Uncas's hatchet.

My God…. thought Alice in horror. His eyes blinked open and from his side, he produced a flintlock pistol and aimed as Nathaniel bore down on him. Alice didn't know if it was loaded, but gasped nonetheless once seeing Nathaniel within range.

Moving quickly, she turned the blade down, lurched forward on her knees and stabbed it into the man's hand, impaling it into the ground. As he screamed hoarsely, Nathaniel stood over him. Alice could not stand to watch. She shakily stood up and looked away as Nathaniel dispatched his opponent.

It was suddenly quiet. The gunpowder was clearing, and Alice was in a daze. Nathaniel approached her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice, concern etched across his face.

Alice nodded. Nathaniel appeared doubtful. He looked around for Cora and saw her standing with his father. He sighed in relief. Linking their hands, Nathaniel guided Alice toward the group.

Uncas… thought Alice yearningly. The name came forth from an area near the left part of her ribs. Darting her eyes up quickly, her gaze met his. She could tell he had heard.


	6. Chapter 6

They started the small campfire early that evening. Nathaniel wanted the women to rest; he always thought fire was soothing. Thus, as the day melted surreptitiously into night, allaying the heat and blanketing them all in the fading vibrant twilight, the fire was lit quickly and the women all but collapsed to the ground.

Sitting back on his haunches whilst feeding twigs half-heartedly into the calescent sparks, Nathaniel reflected on the earlier day. After the ordeal with the French soldiers, they knew they could not delay and took off at a sprint, heading back west the way they had came.

Alice and Cora spoke little. Nathaniel, sparing them a worried glance, noticed the numbness in their faces and grit his teeth. He knew they could not tarry. There could be more soldiers or war-bent Indians nearby. Cora and he spent only mere moments embracing, then at the sepulchral nod of the family patriarch Nathaniel urged the women onward.

Farther down the burgeoning woodland, Uncas had paused and his lips contorted for a moment. Looking at his brother, he shook his head imperceptibly. The women were a little behind them, their father at the head of the group.

Glancing at the sisters fleetingly, Nathaniel edged closer to Uncas.

"Brother," he said in a low voice, speaking their native language. "You are in pain. Let us stop."

Uncas nonchalantly shook his head again, but Nathaniel saw the tightness of his jaw, and the rigidity of his back. He was holding the pain at bay. His gaze was unyielding as he murmured that they must keep going.

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "You are still hurt and probably bleeding. You will be no use to us if you collapse from blood loss."

Cora and Alice had stopped, out of breath. Their eyes flickered curiously between the young men, unable to decipher their words.

Nathaniel noticed Alice's gaze linger on his brother's face, the worry apparent.

Uncas, however, was intractable. Nathaniel could tell he was uncomfortable with everyone crowding around him, staring. Nathaniel used this to his advantage.

"I was just tellin' my brother that we should rest," he explained to the apprehensive females. "He is still hurt from the wounds he sustained. Father would want to stop."

Uncas stiffened, his face a smooth mask of stone. "I'm fine," he simply stated.

Cora stepped forward, her face lined with concern, but her eyes were shrewd. "We should rest, then. Please allow me to tend to your wounds, Uncas. I'm sure your father agrees."

Chingachgook suddenly loomed over them, having stealthily approached unnoticed. Alice's face screwed up in discomfort. How does he keep doing that? she thought sullenly. She lowered her eyes a fraction, then swung them quickly to Uncas.

He is hurting, she thought in shame. Alice could not help but feel it was all her fault. All of it.

He had faced the Huron party head-on because of her, then the Frenchmen, not to mention the countless times he had aided her in the trek to the fort and after. She also thought of her father and Duncan and the forlornness again recaptured her.

He looked so strong in the sunlight, his features smooth and even. Even with his flesh marred on his arms and the green of his shirt more dark now with grime, she thought she had never beheld a more noble vision in her life.

Alice felt her breath hitch. She again lowered her gaze.

"What is it?" asked Chingachgook alertly. His tone was such that it did not sound like a question.

The two younger men and women all kept an uncomfortable silence. Nathaniel was not really going to tell their father Uncas was in pain, not if his brother did not wish it.

The sisters looked discomfited, not wanting to address Chingachgook directly.

Uncas met his father's gaze. "We have much land to cover."

Chingachgook cast a piercing look to his younger son, studying him. Then he nodded once. "I agree." He said the rest in Mohican. "But if you are fatigued, we will stop. Understood?" Again, it was not a question.

Uncas nodded.

Nathaniel could sense Uncas was vaguely annoyed now, but as usual his face expressed nothing. Mirroring his younger brothers impassiveness, he put his hands on Cora's back and led her forward, then nudged Alice gently. He looked at the blonde girl steadily. She thought she was being furtive but he noticed the tiny glances she gave Uncas.

There were emotions pooling in her cerulean eyes. He thought of how much she must hate feeling so helpless.

__________________________________________________________________________

Nathaniel was pulled back into the present and looked around. The two girls were huddled together on the soft grass, Cora clutching her sister, fast asleep.

Alice was awake but staring sky-ward at the deepening blue of the sky. Night was approaching. Though she was immobile as some prone marble effigy, her eyes were restless. Her pupils darted across the sky, making him think she was reliving at least some of the past few days.

He didn't want to think about those French mongrels. The three men had silently agreed not to bring it up until after the women were feeling better.

Nathaniel looked at Uncas and realized with a start he was watching Alice Munro intently. They had all apparently fallen into the same lethargic lull. These moments were few and far in between.

Noticing their father to the fringe, out of earshot on the first watch, Nathaniel decided to speak his mind.

"My brother, how do you feel?" he inquired in Mohican, whispering. His brother soundlessly gestured him over. Nathaniel complied.

They spoke in whispers as dusk yielded to the hush of night.

"Better," Uncas said. Then a beat later, "How are you? How are… the women?"

Nathaniel scratched his neck lazily. "If you mean, how is the blonde one, I think she is holding up good."

"I asked you how are the women."

Ignoring the almost indiscernible vexation in his brother's voice, Nathaniel kept up with the same thread.

"She keeps looking at you, Uncas. Anything I should know? Or rather, anything that's prudent that I know?"

Uncas said nothing, concentrating on the fluttering firelight. The yellow light irradiating the copper tones of his skin.

Nathaniel thought perhaps Uncas had decided to ignore him. He is keeping secrets, he thought. Fair enough. He rolled his shoulders experimentally with a wince.

Uncas suddenly looked up, his face stark in the half-lit night. "I thought I felt something. I was wrong," he said lowly.

Nathaniel cocked his head, confused.

"Feelings are rarely wrong," He replied, slowly.

"I saw something in her. I thought I recognized this."

His voice had a strangeness to it, but Nathaniel picked up on it. He knew he had to choose his words very carefully, mindful that it was hard for Uncas to share his feelings. He would try to coax this out of him.

"I would say she feels the same way. She stares at you, with worry and something else."

They paused for a beat.

"It is not enough," Uncas finally said. Nathaniel shook his head shortly.

"It is enough. She is feeling for you what you feel for her. She has opened her heart to someone so much different from herself."

Uncas looked agitated for a moment, his mouth turning. Nathaniel tried a different tactic.

"How do you know it is not enough?" he challenged his brother.

"Because…. because she told me," he said this with neutrality, but Nathaniel's eyebrows swiftly shot up to his hairline. I knew there was much more to it…

He had had a sneaking suspicion at Fort William Henry but it had seemed so absurd that he had not voiced it. Until now.

"What happened at William Henry?" he asked Uncas abruptly. "How did this all happen? Did you sneak off to see her?" Sly fox… he thought, amused.

"Not really," Uncas stated with a shrug. "I mean, I saw her there. But it wasn't planned. I was thinking about her, more than I knew I should have been."

Uncas threw his brother a look, as if he assumed he would laugh. But Nathaniel was serious, nodding in understanding.

"Did you talk?"

Uncas looked at the ground, shifting. "We talked…"

Nathaniel's senses became heightened. It wasn't what Uncas had said, it was what he had left apparently unsaid. The unfinished thought lingered in the air and Nathaniel almost had it.

"And… and then?" He tried to verbally nudge him, he couldn't help himself.

Uncas shook his head adamantly, face stoic again. But not before his brother had snatched the unfinished thought deftly and formalized it in his mind.

"You kissed her?" he half demanded, needing verbalized validation.

Uncas shook his head more forcefully, but his brother was not a fool. Nathaniel fought the snicker that rose in his throat.

It wasn't that the situation was funny, because it wasn't. Neither was the thought of his brother kissing a female. It was just that Nathaniel always appreciated irony, in its basest form.

His thoughts went to Cora then and the smirk fell.

He suddenly foresaw complications in the near future, as Cora was unusually protective of her little sister. Cora had consented to be his wife and he dreaded the thought of anything jeopardizing this.

"You kissed her," He said gravely. "You don't have to deny it. But that was all, right?"

Uncas looked at him, baffled. "That's all."

Nathaniel relaxed.

"Alright, brother. I do not mean to pry or nag at you like some old fisherman's wife. As long as you comport yourself with honor, I am happy. I know, Uncas-" he said quickly, anticipating his brother's mental sigh of consternation, "-but I have to say it. I'm sure you understand that this affects everyone."

He had no need to say it out loud. They both, however, knew to whom he was alluding. Their father. Having had this whole conversation in Mohican, they both fell silent. Nathaniel and Uncas clasped eyes, both somber. Uncas gazed up at the milky heavens that were tonight splashed with countless stars.

"There is no need to drag Father into this, brother," said Uncas calmly. "She will return to her homeland, eventually. She is not made for the frontier. She is white. I am not."

Nathaniel briefly wondered why they were both subconsciously avoiding saying her name, but decided not to dwell on it. He also recalled the hint of Alice Munro's apparently broken engagement, but didn't wish to gossip about her business, especially with the last phrase Uncas had just said doing slow pirouettes in Nathaniel's mind.

"She said that? That it is because you're not white?" asked Nathaniel carefully.

"In a manner of speaking," Uncas replied, then said no more.

For the next few minutes they both sat quietly, aware of the dull thrum of nature, ears as always attune for any subtle changes.

The girls' soft breathing, the warm breeze wafting through the branches and their hair, their father sitting still slightly on the outskirt of their makeshift camp, rifle and war club at hand.

Nathaniel leaned closer to Uncas, his voice a murmur.

"There is so much that is unsaid, Uncas. That is the last I will speak of it with you, until you wish to willingly discuss this matter with me. I think the girl is confused. She did not ask to be placed into this situation. Her father and friend were murdered. She can not return to England for the foreseeable future. Her sister is starting a new life. She most likely thinks she will dishonor her father's memory by thinking of you in any way other than an acquaintance."

Nathaniel leaned back to better see Uncas' face, but his brother was aloof and impassive. He decided to finish his thoughts on this delicate matter.

"You do not want to dishonor Father either. That is understandable. I think you should try to speak with her when the opportune moment arrives… and then our father at some point. If it is truly meant to be."

They bother jerked back, tense, as their senses caught the flutter of movement.

Chingachgook stepped up to them and lay down with a weary groan, closing his eyes.

"Next watch," he said, voice husky and low. He lay his weapons at arm's length. The truth was none of them would sleep much even if they weren't on watch.

Nathaniel rose quickly, casting a look at his brother as he grabbed his rifle and hatchet and took his father's place as guard.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

At daybreak the small group quickly pulled up their camp and headed back into the routine of the previous days, a quick pace through this mass expanse of forest. The women looked on blearily with exhaustion as the men donned their weapons and spoke quietly. There was a hush and placidity around them. The air was grey and blanched with the early morning chill.

Alice wished badly that she could bathe. It was shocking to be so filthy and grubby. Her hair was disheveled -obviously no longer plaited- and stringy with dried sweat, not to mention the shocking state of her once fine dress.

Looking at Cora, Alice knew her sister looked the same as her. Dresses begrimed and tattered, their shoes in a sad state and worn almost completely through. Alice kept a steady pace throughout the morning, by now use to the blinding heat once the sun hazily emerged.

She was fast adapting to the frontier, she thought wryly. At least the aspect of it that involved traversing on foot.

Throughout the afternoon, the plan was explained to the women.

Chingachgook had mulled over the issue with some consideration and decided that for now it would not make any sense to head west. While it was true that the war lay in the east, the part they were currently in, the expedition to Can-tuck-ee would be fraught with peril in its own way.

Nathaniel had explained that for the time being, they would all follow the same course. They would reach the periphery of a settlement within the day, which was fortunate because the Lenape made their camp nearby during the warmer season.

Alice was intensely curious about these people. The Lenni Lenape, or Delaware to the English, seemed very interesting to her.

Nathaniel spent the next few minutes explaining to an animated Alice and her dubious older sister a brief, abbreviated history of the people that were his father's friends and ancestors.

"They are a good people," commented Nathaniel, who was roasting cod his father had caught in the stream with a small woven net from his pack.

They were sitting around the small spit on the ground, having decided to rest for a spell and catch some food for the women.

"Originally, the Lenape had gotten along quite well with the Europeans," Nathaniel explained while devouring his share of the codfish. "But a rift began to form between them after some years."

"Why?" asked Cora, who was idly braiding her hair by his side, trying to tame the wild curls. It was Uncas who answered.

"One of the Englishmen, many years ago, was given a piece of land by his master across the sea. It is the area known today as Pennsylvania."

Alice made a small noise, looking confused.

"It means the king of England granted him a charter, as the whites call it," put in Nathaniel helpfully. "His name was William Penn."

Not wanting to seem any more ignorant than she already must have appeared, Alice rushed to say something knowledgeable. She had heard of this man, vaguely.

"He was of the Quaker sect, was he not?" she asked.

Nathaniel nodded.

"Right. He treated the Delaware with kindness, I reckon. They thought him a good man and for the years that he was alive, there was peace between the two sides."

"What happened?" asked Alice, intrigued.

"After he died, his descendents did not want to honor their father's request to be fair to the Lenape. They spoke of a treaty made long ago that deeded land to the whites, as much land as they could walk in a day and a half. The Delaware agreed, but before the actual walk took place the whites cheated."

"How?" asked Cora, who looked appalled.

"By clearing a path through the untouched forest. Hiring expert runners." Uncas now spoke, taking a swig of water.

"That is terrible…" stated Cora, clearly sympathetic.

She looked at Chingachgook, but he was puffing at a clay pipe, lost in his own musings and apparently unwilling to join in the discussion of greedy Yengeese and the wronged red men.

"The results were that the whites ended up with twice as much land as they agreed on, most of eastern Pennsylvania colony," Nathaniel concluded.

All of them were quiet for a long moment. Alice thought it over and was saddened and hoped that these Indians would not be anything like the Huron or Ottawa.

But Nathaniel had clearly stated that while the relationship between the Lenape and English was strained due to the Englishmen's trickery, the relationship was at least non-violent.

She also was not altogether inclined to dwell on another topic that was troubling her. She was torn about Chingachgook's decision to hold off with moving westward. While she understood the logic of it, she didn't like it. What good could come of staying anywhere near the Lenape? She knew nothing of them except that Uncas would winter with them.

And if… she thought. If…..

Determined not to finish the thought, she reflected on her poor father and Duncan.

After she was dragged away from the Huron village by Magua and his braves, she recoiled as the agonized screams of her friend reached her ears. Her mind felt broken with pain and despair. Her father was gone, Duncan was being devoured by flames at that moment, and she did not know what had become of her sister.

The sunlight had been startlingly, blindingly bright as they wound their way up the side of the cliff. Alice found that the fear she felt was diminished.

Will he slit my throat and throw me from the cliff? she wondered, but found that after everything that had happened she was less afraid.

She had felt as if she were frozen in a great block of sun glinted ice. Instead, her mind had drifted to happier times. Her girlhood in Scotland and London.

Her sister illuminated by the blood red sun, happy… happy… as she grabbed her younger sister's hand and they ran at break neck speed down the yellow and green hills of Iverness, Scotland. She remembered her father's starched uniform smelling of earth and gunpowder, his blue eyes smiling at her, eyes that mirrored her own.

But persistently, more than anything, she saw him. His slanted black eyes that held so much warmth, the angular planes of his cheekbones, the soothing strength of his hands.

She recalled with heartbreaking clarity how, under the falls as they hid from those painted monsters, he held her in his arms and she could feel the steady thud of his heart beating against hers.

He had caressed her arms and face and gently braided her drenched hair and Alice, marching up that mountainside with the Huron flanking her, remembered with bittersweet sorrow the feeling she had had at that moment when the backs of his knuckles skimmed her cheeks.

As if her very heart was expanding to encompass everything and everyone around them.

Alice, falling headlong into the dizzying feeling, felt the very air leave her lungs and a warmth suffused her like a heady wine. Looking up and catching his eyes, she saw the yearning in his eyes but in her inexperience said nothing. After he finished braiding her hair he helped her up and led her back to the others.

Alice had hoped that before she died she would have one chance, just one moment to herself as her life ebbed out. To be aware of advancing death; if he raised his hatchet before her or dragged her slowly to the edge of the cliff. What she had wanted was to have a split second to remember black, longing eyes and gentle fingers as she departed from this life to the next. Instead, a gunshot shattered her reverie and she froze, hoping against hope that she would be saved instead of dying against the dusty rocks.

Craning her neck, she locked eyes with a pair of dark irises and an unfaltering gaze.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day they felt much more energized. The were now at the mouth of the river and it would be a long canoe ride before they reached the settlement and their destination.

A few hours after dawn the sisters sat on the mossy banks of the river nearby Uncas and his father, Nathaniel had been given the task of sprinting up the forest to speak with the Mohawks who held a small camp nearby. He was trying to trade and bargain with them to have at least two of them commandeer a pair of dug out canoes upriver for a half a days journey.

In less than an hour he returned with two young Indian men in buckskin leggings and calico shirts of blue and green, which apparently was what the red men tended to wear. Alice had not thought of this.

One of them was slightly older and had his head shaved smooth into a scalp lock. The second one was younger and his long, onyx hair hung loose but adorned with feathers. They both stood impassive and eyed the Englishwomen carefully as Nathaniel spoke in a low voice to his family.

It wasn't long before more men came up the forest trail, dragging two canoes with them. Grunting with the effort they heaved them up and, with a splash, into the glassy waters.

"Let us go," said Nathaniel hurriedly. "If we hurry I reckon we can be there mid-afternoon."

He spoke briefly with the Indian men as if thanking them, then signaled the women toward the canoes. The sisters, for their part, stood unsure.

The young Mohawks each climbed into the birch canoes. Uncas and Chingachgook went to opposites ones and both sat at the rear. They grabbed paddles and looked at Nathaniel and the girls expectantly. Cora wound her arm around her sisters neck and they both walked haltingly forward. At Nathaniel's insistence they both climbed in in front of Chingachgook, and Nathaniel joined his brother.

The hours passed without incident, the forest passing in an array of colors and sounds. Alice and Cora fell into a somnolent daze, the heat making them drowsy, the birdsong and whispering of the trees lulling them to sleep against each other's shoulders.

They woke as the glaring sun died and the canoes were banked abruptly. Stretching and rolling her wrists around, Alice looked around far as she could see, all there was to see were more trees, but to the distance blue-gray smoke wafted languidly into the sky - chimney smoke.

Alice felt her spirits lift, as that meant fireplaces, warmth, beds. Cora also looked reinvigorated.

The Mohicans helped the sisters out of the canoes, followed by the Mohawks. The group, seven in all, appraised the view of the woodland.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Down that way is the settlement I was telling' you both about."

He gestured towards the smoky horizon. "We will stop there first. For the most part we know the folks that live in this area, trade pelts with them."

He waved a hand dismissively towards the left. "Bit down that way is the Delaware camp - my father's friends. At least, we reckon that's where they are."

He shrugged, looking unconcerned.

"Lead the way, then," said Cora smilingly, no doubt thrilled to be in civilization again.

The trudge down the coiling trail was very quick as the sun descended and the sky was lit orange. As they approached, they heard children's laughter and the hum of people talking.

Nathaniel explained that while most people had acres of land and no neighbors in site, these people lived relatively close to each other and were on friendly terms with the Delaware and Mohawk who passed their way.

Alice felt her heart quicken at the thought of bathing and falling asleep somewhere that wasn't solid ground. Her lips parted and curved into a smile, unaware of Uncas watching her, an unconscious smile ghosting across his own lips.

Chingachgook edged closer to him. "How do you feel, my son?"

Uncas regarded his father solemnly but warmly. He nodded. "Better. Healing."

"We will leave the women with someone that is trust-worthy for the night, then we will go to the camp. Your wounds must be checked," Chingachgook said sternly in Mohican, acutely eyeing his youngest son.

Uncas shrugged.

He didn't like the idea of leaving the women alone, even though they would be safe. But at the same time the white women could not just saunter into the Delaware camp unannounced and entreat lodgings.

"My son, Uncas," said Chingachgook, somewhat gentler.

Uncas looked at him intently.

"While at the camp, I ask that you take time to heal and reflect. Do not leave the camp for a number of days, until I am certain you are able-bodied again. This is not a request. When the time comes, I wish to speak to you of many things. But first, you will rest."

The party of seven, travel-weary, congregated near the clearing and Nathaniel shouted a greeting.

A cluster of curious faces looked on at them as the sun again began it's downward arc and night fell over them.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

P.S- I kept humming this song as I typed up Alice's flashback about Uncas, Sally's Song by Amy Lee. I think it really suits her. Thank you all for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Walking up the clearing, Alice felt a blushing awkwardness. She had difficulty remembering when she had ever felt so unrefined or slatternly. If only I could have at least smoothed my hair or at best washed my hands! she thought in silent despair. She knew she was being childish, but all her life having impeccable appearance had been drummed into her. She cringed at the thought of how indecent she must have looked.

Turning her head up she took a good look at the people walking up to them. It was difficult to discern in the low light but they appeared to be farmers and housewives; a small number.

"Hello!" called a blonde man who looked to be in his late twenties. He walked quickly up the path and stood, smiling warmly. "Nathaniel, glad to see you!" He had a faint Scottish brogue that Alice instantly warmed to.

Looking around amiably, the man gave a bark of laughter. "From the looks of it you're thinking of starting your own colony."

Nathaniel grinned, turning to the women he gestured with a flourish. "Ladies, may I introduce James Stewart? James, these are the Misses Cora and Alice Munro. You know my father and brother."

He briefly summarized the story with bare minimal details, that his family would stay with the Delaware camp nearby and the Munro women needed a place to bunk down someplace for the time being. The Scotsman nodded agreeably.

Cora raised an elegant eyebrow, studying the young man closely. "Stewart?" she asked in a rather beguiling voice. "A rather auspicious name for a Scotsman, sir."

The Scotsman Stewart blinked owlishly at the elder Munro girl before giving another one of his loud peals of deep laughter, making Alice think of canines again. "There now, lass, I am not of those Stewarts! We took no part in the rebellions."

Chuckling, he turned from a smiling Cora to Alice and she looked down, shuffling her feet.

"The shy one, eh?" She heard him ask. "Quite all right, lass. Nathaniel, I'm assuming they'll be needing a place to stay and.. er… dresses, lady things and such?"

Alice felt her face and neck reddening with mortification, as he had obviously noticed her general lack of hygiene and her dress that was practically brown swathes of rags.

"Nathaniel, Uncas," came the lilting voice of a female from in front of her.

Instinctively Alice looked up at the woman who was now beside Mr. Stewart, wiping her hands on her worn cream colored dress. Her eyes were kind, Alice noticed with some relief.

Tucking a strand of chestnut colored hair behind her ear, she regarded them silently for a moment. "I am Annabel Stewart," she said, her voice mild and Alice caught the cadence of a London accent. "Do the ladies need a place to stay?"

Alice and Cora glanced at each other furtively, trying valiantly to mask their wonderment beneath polite smiles. What could an obviously well-bred young lady be doing on the frontier?

"James is my husband. We own a plot of land not far from here," was her way of explanation, as if knowing their thoughts.

"I am Alice Munro. This is my sister Cora. We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart," Alice said this in a rush, looking self-consciously at the other people who lingered around the Stewarts, gathering around her.

Annabel inclined her head, studying the two women carefully and smiling. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Alice. Please call me Annabel and I trust you and your sister will consent to stay with us?"

Nodding quietly Alice was glad that Cora and she were soon to be enclosed in a warm location, bathed and (hopefully) decked in clean dresses. But how peculiar that the Stewarts would take them in, relative strangers, and not even ask them why.

Annabel announced, "Gentlemen, you know where our homestead lies. The ladies look exhausted,. Tomorrow when they look presentable and have rested we can all convene at my home. Shall we say around noon?"

The men nodded and murmured their assent. Alice looked at her sister who looked overcome with gratitude.

"Thank you ever so much for your kindness, Mrs. Stewart," said Cora sincerely, seemingly forgetting Annabel's entreaty to call her by her first name. "And yourself, of course, Mr. Stewart. My sister and I are most grateful."

Alice nodded. "We shall endeavor to be of any assistance to you in our stay."

James Stewart unsuccessfully fought his laughter and Alice looked at him, confused.

"Did I say anything untoward?" she asked politely. He shook his head and shared a look with Nathaniel.

Annabel sighed in his direction. "It's called good manners, James." Nevertheless, she smiled warmly at her husband.

"Miss Alice, Miss Cora…" Annabel turned and beckoned them.

The sisters glanced at the men uneasily. They didn't want to leave them. Nathaniel's look was tender as he glanced at Cora.

"It will be alright," he said gently and Alice remembered another night not too long ago when another man had said those exact words to her, putting forth a dauntless façade in the face of a world that was collapsing around them.

Alice, distressed, looked at Uncas and Chingachgook's detached expressions and then beseechingly at Nathaniel.

"Where will you all be?" she asked tremulously. "Where can we find you?"

Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. "We will be at the Delaware camp not far from here. There really aint that much room for us here. We don't know but the Stewarts and the other families have too many children. We will see you both tomorrow."

With that he embraced Cora briefly and gave Alice a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before turning and picking up his rifle and hauling his pack, heading down the unlit path.

Alice stared dejectedly at Uncas and Chingachgook, her mouth a stern grimace. It was hard to part ways at this junction, even for a night. Uncas gave her a hint of a smile then turned with his father to follow Nathaniel to the Delaware camp.

Cora also looked troubled but with an air of geniality owing to the fact, or so Alice suspected, that she did not want their host to think the sisters were somehow disparaging their surroundings.

James joined his wife and his eyes danced with mirth as they waited for Cora and Alice.

How odd, thought Alice, but with gratification, he sees none of the bitterness of life…

_______________________________________________________________________________________

A little over two hours later the two girls were soundly tucked into the bed that was once occupied by the married couple. Tthey were tightly compressed into the far wall as they also had to leave a stretch of room for Annabel. The bed was a touch more ample than Alice would have thought but with three women it would be a narrow fit. James had insisted he bunk down on blankets near the fire, waving aside their embarrassed chagrin.

The last few hours happened in a blur. Annabel had entreated her husband to fill as much water as possible into the simple wooden tub that was lined with metal. The two other visiting families had returned home for the night.

Annabel had remarked to them that after they bathed they would eat their fill of bread and cheese as she could not prepare anything at the moment. But that tomorrow would be better.

James had shouldered his rifle and disappeared outside again, stating he would return in about an hour, wanting to check on his crops for now and make sure nothing was amiss.

The water had been quite tepid and if truth be told, more nippy than they had hoped, but Cora quickly removed her garments and sank blissfully into the alleviating water, tears of relief in her eyes.

Moving quickly, Alice rinsed her sister's stringy, matted hair and massaged her scalp.

"I do apologize, ladies, as I have quite run out of soap, but tomorrow I believe we can begin to make some more." Annabel said, "It is not too very difficult."

As she examined the state of Cora's garments with a slight frown, she bade them be rid of their clothing and wear some of her own for the time being. Alice whole-heartedly agreed, whilst stammering out her gratitude.

Cora then sat by the fire, finger combing her spiraling wet hair and donning Annabel's night gown, Alice looking forward to her own bath. Annabel had leaned close to Alice's ear.

"I think it best if my husband empty the tub and fill it anew with fresh river water. Forgive me, but I think it's been overly long that your sister has bathed and with the dirt and such…"

Alice nodded quickly.

Jerked back to the present, Alice stared at the rough workings of the small cabin ceiling, feeling contentedly warm but with a vague sense of trepidation. She had never been alone in a nightgown in a room with a man who was not her father, granted Mr. Stewart had been cheerful and respectful.

The wife and husband sat at their wooden table, talking in low tones about their crops and what would grow and what they could possibly trade or sell from their little plot of land. Alice caught on some of the discussion.

"The sweet potatoes and squash should yield plentiful this summer, I should hope," murmured Annabel, darning one of her husband's torn shirts by the flickering firelight.

James drank heartily of his tankard of ale and nodded, wiping his mouth. "Aye, but my hopes are for the Indian corn and potatoes."

Alice heard Annabel sigh.

"That corn will be paltry at best. What we should truly do is grow wheat."

James chuckled, as if he found her naïve demeanor endearing. "Growing the wheat will not be that simple, my love," he replied.

"I know," said Annabel. sounding a touch cross. "But if we could clear some more of the field, perhaps a bit of the woodland?…"

"I cannot just encroach in that manner, Annabel," James stated lowly.

"Encroaching onto where? Onto whose land? The Newsom's are somewhat nearby but I highly doubt some stalks of wheat will cast a shadow onto their house, resplendent as it is in grandeur," she said the last bit with a muted degree of scorn.

Alice heard the hint of contempt in Annabel's voice and wondered if the families did not get on. She looked silently at Cora, who also appeared to be listening but her sister only shrugged a slender shoulder carelessly. This did not involve them.

Annabel continued. "If we could at least grow some wheat, why, we could trade. The wheat alone-"

James interrupted her quiet harangue. "I agree, my love, but that would mean clearing much more trees and it is already late summer. An experiment of this sort so late in the season is short-sighted, especially if the frost takes the fruits of our labor."

Annabel had finished with the shirt and folded it neatly on the table, running her fingers distractedly along the rough edges of the fabric. She stared at her husband pensively.

"I don't take your opinions lightly, Annabel. That was my promise to you. I have also thought about wheat. The southern colonies clamor for it. But I think we should stay the course for now. Early next summer I promise you I will clear some more land and we can start."

He leaned back, stroking his chin. "Wheat.." he sighed. James changed the subject. "Are the women settled in? Asleep?"

At the far end of the cabin, Alice curled deeper under the blankets.

Annabel nodded solemnly. "Yes, bathed and fed. Poor souls, they looked positively wild upon their arrival. Perhaps tomorrow we can ask the pertinent questions to Nathaniel. They certainly do not appear to be from around these parts. Or from the colonies, for that matter."

"They talk like you do, my sweet," James said with a grin.

Annabel agreed. "London accents."

Later that night Alice awoke disoriented. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, cramped as she felt, wedged between Annabel (fast asleep) and Cora who was to the wall. She heard a muffled sort of keening sound and looked abruptly at her sister, blinking confusedly.

Cora was encased entirely in blankets, her dark head turned into the crease of her elbow facing the cabin wall. Her body shook with silent tears.

Alice felt a pang of despair and, looking quickly at their sleeping hostess, inched towards her sister in the darkness and wrapped a pale arm around her. "Shhh…" she breathed. "Do not fret, sister," she whispered. "All is well." Their eyes met. "I am with you."

Cora choked back another racking sob, her expression stark with grief. Their hands laced under the rough blankets and Alice lay her cheek on her sister's damp forehead. "What is it?" asked Alice quietly.

"Duncan," was all she said, the pooling tears streaming down her face.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Chingachgook and his sons entered the Delaware camp under the obscurity of night.

Treading light-footed and silent, they were nonetheless expected. The Mohawks had melted back into the woods before nearing the camp.

The dome-shaped wigwams dotted along the trees, two longhouses at opposite ends. Small fires were lit throughout the center of the camp in a row for the inhabitants to share. People were milling about, eyeing them inquiringly, but as their presence became known, there were calls of recognition.

The elder Mohican stopped with the younger men as they were approached by a tall man who wore the clothing that was customary to the Delaware, breech-clout and leggings. He was also draped in a shawl made of beaver skin, likely to ward off the slight chill of the dark summer night.

They all waited until they were acknowledged.

"Chingachgook, welcome," said the man in Delaware, solemn. He spoke out of principle first to the older man, in deference to his seniority. There was pause. "You were spotted from the river."

Nathaniel racked his memory a little frantically to recall the tall, somewhat heavyset man in his early 50's.

His gaze found the lined tattoos on his lower cheeks and he remembered his name, thankfully, just as the Lenape's eyes cut to him.

Nathaniel bowed his head. "Hopocan, thank you for the welcome."

The man in question nodded shortly. He looked at Uncas and arched a black eyebrow.

"You bring tides of war, then, Chingachgook? Your son has seen injuries."

Without bothering to say anything else to the young men, he called over some women, with instructions to find accommodations for Chingachgook's sons, as well as sustenance and clothing.

The women came over and talked animatedly with each other as they examined Nathaniel and prodded and poked Uncas, assessing his wounds and checking for any impairment.

One of the younger women stepped up to Uncas, striding soundlessly in her deerskin moccasins. Her eyes were bright in the firelight as she examined Uncas's ribs and arms, catching his eyes she smiled lightly and gestured the brothers to the center of the camp.

"I will see you both when the sun comes," stated Chingachgook sternly to the men as they were slowly led away.

Nathaniel looked irritated at being dismissed abruptly, and was led to a wigwam inhabited by a small family, Uncas to one of the longhouses to be treated for his injuries. For this, Chingachgook's heart was glad.

Later that evening found Hopocan and Chingachgook in a rather spacious wigwam, smoking a clay tobacco pipe and discussing the past summer.

Shucks of dried spotted corn as well as herbs hung down the sides of the wigwam, adding a pleasant fragrance to the air. The two men had known each other for many years, and Chingachgook felt comfortable speaking with him, or just reminiscing.

"That older boy of yours, " Hopocan had asked baldly. "Is he still mouthy?" To which Chingachgook nodded. "Not to me, however."

"Your youngest… she married when the snow fell deep last winter, I was told?" Chingachgook inquired this. Hopocan had nodded with a pleased expression, adding that she had recently given birth to a son.

Currently, Chingachgook was explaining the recent days, their brush with the murderous Huron on the George Road, the English women they were now saddled with, and subsequently Uncas' injuries.

Hopocan sat quietly at an interlude in their discussion of the younger boy. His puffs of smoke from his pipe were slow and languorous, his black eyes intelligent as he considered this point of the story.

"He ran like a fool after that white girl," said Chingachgook after a beat.

Hopocan cocked his head to the side, handing the pipe to his old friend. He noted an unusual but definite edge to the Mohican's voice.

Chingachgook's puffs were shorter on the pipe. "He thinks me old and feeble, I suppose, assuming I do not to notice how he stares after her like a simpleton."

Hopocan gave a momentary smile. "If she is as weak-willed as you hint, this will only be a passing infatuation. All men go through this sort of distraction in their youth. Is he much beyond twenty summers?"

"Twenty-two," grunted Chingachgook. "He should have started a family of his own by now."

The Lenape nodded his assent. "And your white son? He is at least twenty-five summers."

Chingachgook turned the pipe carefully over in his weathered hands. "My white son has found a mate in the moon girl's sister. I approve. It is a good match. She has a strong spirit that called to his."

Turning the discussion back to the unlikely younger pair, Chingachgook frowned.

"The moon-haired girl is not strong. I fear my youngest son is chasing after shadows and dust. I fear she will return to her homeland and leave a wound in my son's heart. He should turn his eye towards what is expected of him, the re-growth of our tribe and a Delaware woman. Not a Yengeese girl who knows nothing of our traditions, knows nothing of survival."

Hopocan regarded his friend with more curiosity than sympathy. They both knew a man's heart could not be governed.

"I understand, my friend," said Hopocan lightly. "Uncas should know his responsibilities. But we were both young once. Many, many moons ago." They both chuckled at this.

Hopocan continued. "At this point, his heart beats hot and fast. Young men are slaves to their senses, to fleeting things such as beauty and passion. It will wane."

Hipocan said this with certainty, but Chingachgook was silent anew, watching the tobacco smoke waft upwards and out of the opening at the top-center of the dome.

"Soon he will find all this and more, a firm foundation with a Delaware woman." The Lenape said this to reassure his friend.

Hopocan sighed and leaned back into furs and hides, closing his eyes briefly. "We must remember to be compassionate to the young."


End file.
